Women know more about words than men ever will. And they know how little they can ever possibly mean.
WILLIAM FAULKNERThe next time you try to seduce anyone, don’t do it with talk, with words.
More William Faulkner Quotes
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Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The quality an artist must have is objectivity in judging his work, plus the honesty and courage not to kid himself about it.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Be scared. You can’t help that. But don’t be afraid.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
If we in America have reached that point in our desperate culture when we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don’t deserve to survive, and probably won’t.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The books I read are the ones I knew and loved when I was a young man and to which I return as you do to old friends.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like butterflies hovering a long way off.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
They say that it is the practiced liar who can deceive. But so often the practiced and chronic liar deceives only himself; it is the man who all his life has been selfconvicted of veracity whose lies find quickest credence.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Nothing can destroy the good writer. The only thing that can alter the good writer is death.
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A man is the sum of his misfortunes.
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A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where a train stops. On my desk, I have a work station….
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A fellow is more afraid of the trouble he might have than he ever is of the trouble he’s already got. He’ll cling to trouble he’s used to before he’ll risk a change.
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We have to start teaching ourselves not to be afraid.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat
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Tomorrow night is nothing but one long sleepless wrestle with yesterday’s omissions and regrets.
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All l mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings, only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don’t know why either except that the strings are all in one another’s way.
WILLIAM FAULKNER